Monday, May 18, 2009

Dancing with myself

I am standing in my room, dancing around in an outfit that my mother probably wouldn't approve of, when it hits me--I think I am living out my dream. The semester ended for me last Wednesday. On Friday, I moved across Morningside Park (Harlem, the horror! j/k) to my new apartment with my friend Liz. Yesterday, I finally finished decorating. I've got a whole closet to myself (half of it devoted to my shoes), a full bed with no dip in the middle, every shelf in the place filled with books, and posters of my favorite works of art up on the walls. I am standing in front of the mirror, dressed like a total hipster in tattered jeans and a tank top that shows my bra straps (it's a cami today). Behind me I can see my board of theater tickets and extended line of restaurant cards. Then, of course, there is Peter up on the wall, staring me down like he's Elvis or something.

Anyway, enough with the narcissism. This stuff is all great, but it only serves to remind me of how little of the city that I have actually seen. I've been looking up dance to go see tonight all morning, and am rather miffed that the first day that I have in a VERY LONG TIME to go hang out in the city is a Monday, when the majority of the city is dark. Oh well, I guess that just means more time for me at MoMA and the Guggenheim.

Now I am watching the cat attempt to figure out how many pairs of boots that I have at the bottom of my closet. I hope cats can count above 10...

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